Broken, not shattered
by Ms.Informed13
Summary: The next shot impacted her left arm. It tore through the bicep, but she didn't stop running. Rachel broke off to the right towards the gyms, and Kurt went left toward the theatre. Neither of them made it straight out to the front door. School Shooting warning- character death. Faberry Brittanna Klaine endgame. Not the shooter you'd expect.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- Hey all! So I was reading Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult... again... and got inspired for a story. This is set in the Glee club's senior year. Fair warning, there is bad language, possible character death, violence, and romance.**

**Given that, the time line will jump from past to present to future so if you ever get confused on what time is being discussed just drop a comment or PM me and I'll try to make it more clear!**

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><p><em>"In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn; color your hair; watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five.<em>

_In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world; or you can just jump off it."_

_― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes_

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><p><strong>(October 12, 2020)<strong>

"I'll never forget that day, and trust me, I've tried." The brunette paused and took a deep breath. Her manager had warned her that given the upcoming anniversary, this topic was bound to come up. No matter how much she prepared though, she was never ready. So with a shaking breath, she threw her shoulders back and tried to project confidence, "It's not something you can just let go. It will always be with me, just like it will always be with everyone else who was there."

The interviewer nodded sadly, "Of course. Do you think you could walk us through it? Your experience that day, I mean."

The singer nodded slowly, that's all anyone ever seemed to want anyways, all the dirty details. She had only ever recounted the entire story twice. Once for the police right after, and once years later to her fiancée, "It began as a normal day. I drove myself to school, parked next to the same street lamp I always park next to." She closed her eyes, remembering everything. Every last detail that was burned into her mind.

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><p><strong>(Six Years Earlier. October 17, 2014)<strong>

Rachel swung her locker shut and was not surprised to find Kurt standing there waiting for her, with a smile on his face.

"Good morning, Kurt."

"It really is, isn't it?" His smile just widened as his eyes looked beyond Rachel, beyond the dull cinder block walls of the school.

The singer wanted to laugh, but she refrained, "What's gotten into you?"

"Well today is Friday!"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "And?"

"And tonight Blaine is taking me to the football game."

At this explanation, Rachel could not contain her laughter. Sure the teachers had been promoting the game all week and the football players were wearing their white and red jerseys to school, but never would Rachel have guessed that's why Kurt was so excited.

"What's so funny?"

"Just imagining you at a football game."

Their conversation continued like that all the way to first period English class. It was in the west wing of the building, farthest from the gyms, theater, and pretty much anything important aside from the back parking lot.

Rachel was slightly disappointed to see the seat directly in front of hers that was normally occupied by a certain blonde cheerleader was empty, but she figured Sue must have pulled the girls out of classes. She had a tendency to do that the day of big performances so they can spend all day rehearsing.

The first ten minutes of class passed as usual, the teacher took roll, a couple of football players threw paper at each other, and Kurt continued gossiping with Rachel. He even called Mercedes who was in History just down the hall so he could fill her in on the latest. Rachel zoned out watching the seconds slowly pass by on the clock.

That's how she remembers it was exactly 7:38 and 45 seconds when her world was knocked off its axis. A single loud boom reverberated through the school.

Rachel lifted her head from her hand to glance out the window in time to see black smoke rising from the back parking lot 'dang pot heads' she thought, assuming that the stoners were making a commotion just for the heck of it.

Their teacher though, Mrs. Jones seemed to have other ideas. She dropped the black dry erase marker she had been writing with and froze. Kurt arched an eyebrow at Rachel, mumbling 'crazy' under his breath.

The brunette ignored him and continued watching as their teacher silently strode to her desk and began typing furiously on her computer. Every few seconds her eyes would dart to the open door across the classroom, Rachel's stomach began twisting uncontrollably. Years later she would call this her 'sixth sense' but at the time she just thought of it as paranoia.

The class broke out into hushed whispers as Mrs. Jones sat back at her computer, awaiting a response.

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><p><strong>(Present. October 15, 2020)<strong>

"That's when it happened."

The host leaned forward slightly, "When what happened."

"I heard the first gunshot."

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><p><strong>(6 years earlier. October, 2014)<strong>

The class fell silent and Rachel couldn't help but think of the juxtaposition. The loudest sound she'd ever heard followed by the deepest silence. She couldn't quite finish that thought because milliseconds later, the first scream erupted, followed by another and another until they all bled together. The noise broken periodically by the loud cracks of gunfire. There was no doubt in anyone's mind what was going on.

In an instant, the class was on their feet and half were bolting out the door while the other half was ducking behind desks. Principal Figgin's voice came over the intercom yelling "Lock down! Lock down!"

All the time those cracks just kept coming.

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><p><strong>(Present. October, 2020)<strong>

"How would you describe the school at that point?"

"It was in utter pandemonium. My friend Kurt grabbed me and we tried to run, we made it out of the classroom before the teacher locked the door. I don't know why we left. They always teach you to hide and our teacher was trying to keep everyone in the room. But we ran."

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><p><strong>AN- So what do you think? Drop me a comment and let me know, I love hearing from all of you, hopefully you'll be as enthusiastic about this story as I am.**

**Sidenote, I'm working on 'The Princess' from Urban Fairy Tale universe so keep an eye out for that in the next couple of weeks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- Thank you for all the support so far, I'm really excited about this story so it's great to hear that other people are too! Keep those great reviews coming!**

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><p><em>"When this is over...we will got to the rainforest, or a beach as white as bone. We will eat grapes from the vine, we will swim with sea turtles, we will walk miles on cobblestone streets. We will laugh and talk and confess. We will."<em>

_- Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes_

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><p><strong>(7 years earlier. Summer 2007)<strong>

Two young girls lay in the bright grass of the front yard that belonged to the house at the end of the road. They both wore short denim shorts with brightly colored tank tops.

"Can you believe school starts in less than a week?" The taller girl asks, lazily twirling a blade of grass in her fingers.

The other girl throws an arm across her eyes and groans, "Urgh, don't remind me."

"At least it's fifth grade. It could be worse."

The smaller girl sent her a glare, "Don't try to make school a positive thing, Q. It's hell with flourecent lighting."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "You're such a drama queen."

The brunette girl sat up indignantly, "This coming from the one who spent all of the summer obsessing over how Rachel Berry only wears one-piece swimsuits and how Finn Hudson has a habit of huffing glue!"

Quinn was just gearing up for a long winded reply about how she most definitely** did not** care how Rachel chose to dress at the neighborhood pool and how Finn really did huff glue, when Santana interrupted her thoughts.

"Speak of the devil." She said, nodding across the street.

The blonde shot up to a sitting position and snapped a hand up to fix her flyaway hair. But let it drop when she saw it was Finn walking down the sidewalk across the road with Dave Karofsky. Finn had a basketball which he bounced uncoordinatedly as the boys walked towards the rec center.

"Shame both their heads are as empty as that ball." Santana said before flopping back down.

Quinn watched them for a moment, paying attention to the placid smile on Dave's face, even at the age of twelve he is tall for his age. She was always able to connect to the gentle giant since the beginning of elementary school. Finding an inexplicable kinship in his quiet nature. They both knew who the right crowd was, and they were both a part of the right crowd, but for both of them- it didn't go much deeper than that.

She shook that thought from her head and laid back down, secretly excited to be going back to school.

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:36 AM)<strong>

Santana giggled, like actually giggled. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone of course, because Santana Lopez does not giggle. But 'Sanny' does.

She was giggling because Coach Sylvester had sent her and Brittany out to her car to grab some cones for practice and now they were wasting time fooling around in the parking lot.

"I almost caught that bunny, I was so close Sanny!" Brittany smiled.

Santana was about to confirm the blonde's assertion when an explosion from the back of the school caught her attention.

"What was that, San?"

"Probably just a boiler exploding. It happens in old schools all the time." Santana lied. She had no clue what that noise was, but she saw no sense in scaring Brittany unless it was necessary.

"Oh, do you think it hurt the bunnies that live in the basement?"

Santana didn't even raise her eyebrow at the slightly absurd question, "I don't think it did Britt."

The Latina gathered up the practice cones and was just about to prepare to go back into the building when she saw the first people streaming out of it. They were disheveled and red faced, moving at a sprint they didn't stop when they hit the parking lot. As the doors opened to let them out, Santana could hear the utter confusion inside, screams and shouts all mixed together into an overbearing wall of noise flooding at them just like the wall of students streaming from every possible exit. Santana dropped the cones, grabbed Brittany and thrust the car keys into the frightened blonde's grasp.

"Get in the car and lock the doors. Don't get out or open them unless it's me or Quinn alright?"

"Sanny, what's going on?" Brittany's blue eyes were wide with concern.

"Just stay in the car, alright? I have to help Q." She shrugged out of her Cheerios jacket and handed it to the blonde, "Here, if you get cold or someone tries to get into the car, hide under this ok?"

Brittany understood Santana's tone more than her words and found herself nodding while moving to do as instructed.

Once Santana was sure she was safely locked in the car, she began battling the sea of students. Occasionally she would pass students with blood spattered on their clothes or cuts on their arms and legs.

By this time, police cars were beginning to spill into the parking lot. They had to slow down as the students continued sprinting away from the school. Eventually most of them gave up and parked their cars haphazardly in the lot, jumping out and running to assist.

One policeman caught up to where Santana was shoving through students towards the school, he grabbed one boy by the arm, "Who is it?! Who's shooting?!"

Santana's stomach dropped at that word, of course it was a shooting, but she had until now been able to retain a little hope.

"I don't know." The boy was terrified and wanted nothing more than to escape the grasp of the cop.

"Where is the shooter?"

When the boy didn't reply, the cop let him go and surged forward with Santana at his side.

They made it to the front doors of the school before the officer stopped another student, a young girl Santana recognized from Chemistry class last year, "Where's the shooter?"

The girl didn't answer, her eyes were hysterical and her hands were streaked with blood, "They're dead. They're all dead!"

For a moment the officer paused, "Who's dead?"

"The Cheerios."

Santana froze, the girl couldn't be right. The entire squad couldn't be dead, it was impossible. The girl tried to push away and rejoin the crowd but Santana stopped her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I saw them all in the gym, sprawled on the ground."

With this affirmation, the brunette was sure she was going to be sick. Her blood ran cold and she didn't register the crowd parting around her like a rock in a stream. Her best friend was dead and she wasn't because she had been screwing around.

Still in disbelief and needing to see for herself, Santana pushed forward, throwing herself through the doors and shoved her way forward towards the gyms.

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><p><strong>AN- Also thank you Eyghon, you were indeed right that I used the incorrect word in the previous chapter and I went back and fixed it. Thanks so much for pointing that out!:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- Thank you for your continued readership and following this story, read, review, and enjoy!**

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><p><em>"If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?"<em>

_― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes_

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:39 AM)<strong>

'Somebody lied.' As Quinn lay on the floor of the gymnasium, that was all she could bring herself to process, 'somebody lied'.

You see, in all the movies and TV shows, they make it seem like a gunshot is supposed to make a deep booming sound. One that reverberates off walls and echoes for miles. But that's a lie.

Because the first shot sounded like a whip. It was just outside the doors of the gym so she had no idea what the sound was. Just a loud crack followed by silence.

The Cheerios were practicing lifts so she was 7 feet up in the air when it began, facing away from the door. Coach Sylvester was in the middle of counting off the next move when the doors were flung open and the cracks kept coming.

They reverberated around the gym and a chorus of screams soon joined. All Quinn was aware of was falling.

Her bases dropped her and she fell hard, hit her head on the old wooden floor so hard it bounced up and slammed down again. Her vision blurred and all she was aware of was all the noise. The sickening cracks that bounced around in her injured skull like competing juggernauts intent on destroying anything they could find.

Slowly the screams faded out, along with Quinn's vision. She was gone.

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><p><strong>(December 2012. 2 years earlier)<strong>

Groping through the darkness, Quinn felt rather than saw Santana stumble and run into a desk, "Shit." The Latina hissed angrily.

Quinn smiled as she finally found the corner of the room and sank to the floor, "This is ridiculous." Santana complained from beside her.

Quinn was sandwiched between her angry friend clutching her pained shin, and an unknown warm figure who smelled faintly of vanilla, "Which part, the lockdown drill or the fact that turned off the lights before we made it to the corner?"

"Both."

They fell into a comfortable silence, Quinn's knees pulled up to her chest as the class sat quietly waiting for further instruction. The PA system buzzed and the monotone voice of Figgin's drifted down at them, "Thank you, students, faculty, and staff, for participating in this lockdown drill. In the event of a lockdown, this means there is danger on our school campus."

"Or it means Sue has finally cracked." Santana whispered, Quinn hummed in agreement.

"During a lockdown please move to a corner of the classroom away from doors and windows, teachers will be responsible for locking the door and shutting off the lights. It is very important to remain silent. Throughout the drill, administrators will be checking that the doors are securely locked."

Once the principal's voice faded out, the room fell into a tense silence. It was by no means the first drill of this kind that they had practiced, and even though all the students knew it was not real, there was a note of concern. Quinn lost track of time waiting for the drill to end, and Santana was fixated closely on her nails.

"I don't know why they make us practice these stupid drills anyway," Santana throws out quietly while inspecting her nail beds, "It's like they don't know if anything happens everyone's going to be running away from here as fast as possible, not hiding in the corner."

Quinn's only response is a nod.

"I mean, that's what I would do." The blonde knows that her friend's ranting is coming from a place of concern, "You would too right?"

This time Quinn hesitates in her reply, it's not like she is the type of person to go looking for danger, but more often than not if somehow finds her.

"Quinn," the Latina starts when her friend has sat silently for a while, "I need you to promise me that if something were ever to happen, you would get yourself out."

"Santana, this is ridiculous!" The blonde hissed back in the dark.

"The just promise me damn it! I know you Quinn, you do stupid shit!"

Quinn huffed and flipped her short hair over her shoulder, "I refuse to promise you anything, you never know what might happen."

Santana muttered something Spanish under her breath while Quinn sat stubbornly beside her, "Fine. At least promise you'll never intentionally put yourself in harms way?"

"Fine." Quinn conceded, "Without good reason."

The brunette scowled at the qualifier on the promise, but it was lost in the dark classroom.

After what felt like hours, the handle of the classroom door jiggled loudly. Most of the students jumped with a little scared yelp- Santana laughed at their easy fright, and Quinn just rolled her eyes at the Latina. She realized that the girl next to her had not jumped either, she was just sitting there stoic. Apparently deep in thought.

"Thank you for your participation. You may now resume normal classroom activities."

With that, the teacher bounced up and snapped on the lights, already preparing to jump back into the lecture of the day. As Quinn struggled upright, she was shocked to see a petite brunette stand up beside her. Rachel had been next to her all along.

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><p><strong>(October 19, 2014- 3:18 AM)<strong>

The beeping was what initially woke Rachel up. It was incessant and hammered away at her head. She cracked one eye open, fully prepared to yell at her father to turn off the washer or whatever it was that was beeping, but instead of seeing the pink of her bedroom, she was met with a dull grey wall.

Her other eye flew open and she took in the hospital room she was laying in, the beeping was her heart rate monitor. Her fathers were flanking her bed in chairs, LeRoy to her left was sound asleep, but on her right Hiram was wide awake and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder when she tried to struggle upright.

"Just relax, honey." Rachel complied and melted into the pillow, she felt a sharp pain in her arm. Rachel's brown eye widened as she saw the thick white bandage around her left bicep. She tried to touch it to see if it did indeed exist or if she was imagining it, but she found her right wrist encased in a black padded and velcroed sling type thing.

"What happened?" Her voice was so incredibly weak.

"Your left arm, the doctors did an initial surgery two days ago, and the final surgery yesterday. They say it's healing really well and doesn't show signs of infection so that's good-"

"Dad, what's going on?" Rachel interrupted, but Hiram just kept going.

"And your wrist is just in a temporary sling, they are planning on putting the cast on today or tomorrow. Apparently it was a clean break though so they didn't need to do surgery on that-"

"Dad!" Tears were beginning to track down the brunette's cheeks, her mind was jumping through any possibility of what could have happened from a car crash to tripping down too many flights of stairs, anything seemed possible and yet she had no idea why she was lying in the hospital, "Please, I need to know what happened."

Hiram cringed, the doctors had warned that Rachel's memory might have suffered some, he was just hoping that he would not have to be the one to break Rachel's innocence about what she had been through.

"There was a um- an incident on Friday at your school."

With that one clue, everything came rushing back to Rachel, hearing the shots, running from the classroom, everything. Her eyes continued to widen as more came back to her, her heart rate increased and the wildly beeping monitor did nothing to hide her anxiety.

Her hands shook slightly as she remembered the last moments of horror before she was put in an ambulance, "Where's Quinn?"

Hiram's mouth tightened as he swallowed thickly.

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><p><strong>AN- Hope you like it so far! I was planning on waiting to update it so it would be every Saturday but I couldn't wait! Drop a review, I love hearing your feedback and what you think ought to happen!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- You readers are the best haha! I was definitely planning on waiting to post this till Friday, but there were more reviews on the last chapter than any previous ones so I felt bad in leaving you all hanging. Plus I finished another scholarship application so I'm in a happy mood :) Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>You don't need water to feel like you're drowning, do you?" <em>

― _Jodi Picoult__, __Nineteen Minutes_

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><p><strong>(August, 2011. 3 years earlier)<strong>

By all reasonable thought, Quinn should be a base. She was an inch taller than was average for her age, and though she was extremely slight, she was muscular. But Sue had taken a liking to her, and now in the first week of school, the day of the first football game of the season, Quinn was assigned to be the center flier.

Her bases were a strong junior girl with deep black hair- Janet, and a kind brunette who was a freshman as well- Maria. They were both nice enough, but her back spotter, Rebecca, was another story. She was a senior, her final year on the team and ever since Quinn had joined, the older girl had been out to get her.

"Get in your groups, we're doing small base lifts!" Sue yelled and the girls assembled as requested.

"Don't be sloppy babies! On three! One, two…"

Quinn positioned her hands on the shoulders of her two bases and they each grabbed a calf, preparing to hoist her up. On three, they lifted her in the air and Quinn kicked up her left leg doing a perfect side split in midair, the lift was stable for the first second, but the blonde felt Maria, the base on her left, shake.

The tremor shook up Quinn's leg and before she knew it, she was falling fast, her bases surged in as they were taught to, and each one seamlessly caught her behind her lower back. But Rebecca was a split second too late and didn't support Quinn's shoulders fully, sending her toppling to the ground.

It was the first time she had ever been dropped, like actually dropped.

her breath was knocked out of her, she had landed on the artificial grass. It was softer than the track would have been, but nowhere near as supportive as the mats in the gym were to fall on. Maria instantly knelt beside her, "Oh my goodness, Quinn I'm so sorry!"

Once Quinn could regain enough breath to talk she smiled, "Don't worry about it." She slowly sat up, then stood.

Rebecca was hanging back with an evil glint in her eye that made the blonde uneasy, "Yeah sorry about that Quinn, I guess I'm just not used to a flier your size."

Sue looked on in disdain before ordering the girls to do laps of the track until she got tired.

Quinn avoided Rebecca for as long as possible but the first football game of the season was that same evening so it was inevitable when they met again on the track to cheer for the team. The game went smoothly for the first quarter, but when the Titans scored in the second, the girls moved to the small base lifts they had been practicing earlier that day.

Quinn went up in the air, and once her head cleared the front row of bleachers she was hit full force by the bright lights of the stadium. Without thinking, she recoiled from the brightness. Back she went, the flinch sent her toppling to the ground. Just like at practice, the bases pushed forward and caught her, but unlike at practice, Rebecca didn't even get a hand on the blonde and her head smacked hard onto the track.

She lay a moment while her vision swam before she registered Maria bending down over her, she was wringing her hands in concern. Quinn tried to shake her head and tell her not to be worried about it, but the moment she moved her head, she felt nauseous.

Brittany appeared out of nowhere with a soothing hand on her forehead, "Don't try to move, Quinn." Though it was only their freshman year, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany had been best friends since elementary school.

The blonde resigned herself to laying a moment on the track while she heard a loud yelling start from somewhere behind her, "What the hell was that?!" The voice was unmistakably Santana's.

"I don't know what you're talking about Satan." Rebecca shot back.

There was a low chuckle that Quinn knew all too well as it always came before Santana laid into someone, "Really? That's how you want to play it?" Quinn couldn't see what was going on but she heard a scream far too high pitched to be Santana followed by the tearing of material.

Sue did nothing to intervene, preferring to let the girls fight it out and kick the loser off her squad, "Now do you know what I'm talking about?"

Quinn didn't remember much from that day, but she'll never forget two things. The first being how Santana stood up for her without question against a larger, older, and stronger girl. The second being the horrible feeling of complete helplessness as she plummeted to earth.

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><p><strong>(15 years after, December 2029)<strong>

An excerpt from the debut novel 'An Hour in Hell: the survivors' story'

_Allow me to preface this novel by explaining the sub title: 'the survivors' story'. I absolutely hate this subtitle, but my editor insisted upon it. See the term __**survivor**_ _has a heroic connotation. We hear survivor and we picture wounded warriors who fought tooth and nail to stay alive. _

_But that's not true. _

_Most of the survivors got their title by hiding under desks in locked classrooms, like they were supposed to do. This is by no means to discount those who made it out of McKinley high school alive, it is simply to say that we are not all heroes. _

_Most of us were wracked with guilt and grief that haunts us to this day. _

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><p><strong>(Four years later, September 13, 2018)<strong>

Rachel was running, her feet pounded against the floor as lockers whizzed by past her. She could hear the heavy footsteps of the person pursuing her from behind, but she couldn't look back, she kept running. Suddenly, she tripped on the foot of a body laying in the hallway and before she knew it, she was sprawled on the ground. The footsteps drew closer and stopped, Rachel just laid there, waiting for the inevitable. But just before the shot, she woke up with a start.

Rachel bolted upright in bed, a cold sweat winding uncomfortably down her back. It wasn't the first time she had awoken from a dream like this (the third time this week- some days were easier than others), and she was sure it would not be the last.

The only thing that kept her grounded was the gentle hand on her elbow, "Rach, honey are you alright?"

The brunette found herself nodding, "Yeah, I'm fine." She laid back down and relaxed into her girlfriend's embrace, "As long as I've got you."

The woman snaked her arms around Rachel's waist and allowed the brunette to curl into her, "I'll always be here for you." She pressed a reassuring kiss to Rachel's shoulder, "Was it a nightmare again?"

The singer nodded into the taller woman's collarbone.

"The same one?"

"Same as always."

She let Rachel work out whatever she was struggling with in her head knowing the brunette would speak when she was ready.

"I love you." Rachel whispered.

Her girlfriend tightened her hold on the girl gently (afraid she might break if held too hard) mindful of the injury on Rachel's left arm though it had healed and scarred over years ago.

"I've loved you ever since I met you, I love you with every fiber of my being, I can't imagine a day without you and pray I never have to."

Those words were the only thing that could reassure Rachel when she was feeling like this. Rachel finally exhaled all of the negative energy she had been holding onto and allowed herself to believe what she was being told.

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:45)<strong>

The hallway was as deserted and empty as she'd ever seen. Even the cop that Santana had originally been following into the school had vanished from sight. There was a lull in the shooting and Santana figured that all of the students must either be safely locked in a classroom or fleeing through the parking lot. Nobody was standing like a sitting duck in the middle of a hallway, or at least nobody but Santana.

Realizing this, the Latina let out a muted, 'fuck' and she flattened herself against a wall quickly. With her eyes bouncing in every direction, Santana began sneaking down the hallway as though she were in an old spy movie.

Santana bit her tongue to refrain from humming the James Bond theme song under her breath, when a spatter of gunshots from up ahead froze the brunette in her tracks. Her eyes wildly searched for somewhere to hide, spotting two doors across the hall from her.

She snuck across and tired both of the handles, they were both locked. She could hear heavy footsteps tracking away from the gymnasiums, Santana was about to make a mad dash for the stairs leading up to the third floor when she felt a strong hand clamp over her mouth, and another grab her around the waist, dragging her backwards. A door slammed shut, and she was plunged into darkness.

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><p><strong>AN- Thank you for reading, reviewing, and following/favoriting this story, keep it up! Thanks for all the reviews posted so far, progpoet I totally agree with how delicate of a subject this is so I'll be trying to handle it as best I can. Gllover22, I'm adding a timeline to help out!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- Thank you for reading, in case you were confused, this is the newest chapter and the one that was added is an updated timeline. Please enjoy.**

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><p><em>"If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?"<em>

_― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes_

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:07 AM)<strong>

Frannie had to park two blocks away and run to the school because of how crowded the parking lot had become as parents flooded in trying to find their children. She was supposed to be on a flight home- in this case home being in Washington where she had moved shortly upon graduating from Brown and opening her own bakery- but she had left the airport without a second thought when she heard the news.

Once she fought her way into the parking lot, she was assaulted by the noise of police sirens, ambulances, reporters, parents, and students alike. Her own parents were nowhere to be found in the chaos, but Frannie easily found the face of Maria Lopez.

Frannie made her way over to the woman who was still wearing her skirt suit (she was a high powered attorney) and clutching her cellphone like a lifeline, "Mrs. Lopez." Frannie greeted.

The woman whipped around and immediately recognized Frannie, pulling her into a tight hug, "Fran, you get skinnier every time I see you." Her motherly instinct was incontrolable.

The blonde shook her head dismissively, "Any news?"

"They released two lists a short time ago, students that were evacuated and are now on the track up at the middle school, and students who have already been taken to a hospital. Brittany, Santana, and Quinn weren't on any of those lists."

Frannie let out a small breath- at least they hadn't been rushed to a hospital, "What about Rachel? Rachel Berry?"

"Not on the lists." Maria Lopez had memorized the lists easily, they were her only lifeline.

A tall man with wire rimmed glasses next to Quinn spun around, "Did you say Rachel Berry? She's my daughter, do you have any information on her?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Frannie could see the resemblance between this man and Rachel, "No, I'm sorry."

He nodded and turned back to the shorter man beside him, they leaned together both seeking comfort. It was in short supply around here.

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><p><strong>(November 27, 2017. Three years later)<strong>

Kurt was on his back, laying on the floor of the hallway in the main dance building of NYADA, Blaine was sitting against the wall beside him laughing and trying to convince him to help with a choreographing assignment.

"Not happening!"

"Come on, just help me with the transition section." Blaine jutted out his jaw and put on his best puppy dog face.

"I already did my time in that horrible class, I'm -Oh my God." The words fell from Kurt's mouth and he quickly rolled over to be resting on his stomach. Now looking down the hallway with the world the right side up, Kurt could clearly see the two figures approaching and his suspicions were confirmed.

Rachel strode confidently towards Kurt and Blaine, her right hand interlaced with a tall blonde's. The singer had a large smile on her face as she stopped before the two boys,"Kurt, Blaine," She paused for dramatic effect, "this is my girlfriend Monica. She's a dance major."

Kurt's jaw hit the floor, literally because he was still laying down. He wasn't shocked because his best friend had a girlfriend. But because this was the wrong girl.

Kurt pulled himself together quickly, "Rach, could I talk to you for a second." He nodded into the dance studio, "I need your opinion on this track I've been working on." He jumped to his feet and before Rachel could respond, he was dragging her inside the studio and shooting Monica a kind smile over his shoulder, "We'll just be one second."

Once inside, he stalked to the sound system and stabbed a button threateningly so that a loud Lady Gaga mashup began spilling from the speakers, "Personally, Kurt, I think that Gaga's been done to death but if you really-"

The brunette was cut off by Kurt holding up his hand, "Rachel, that's not really why I needed to talk to you!"

"What?" Rachel stood with a hand on her hip, trying to ignore what she knew was coming.

"Why are you dating Monica?"

As predicted, Rachel's flair for dramatics came up, and her eyes turned icy, "I can date whoever the hell I want thank you very much! I'm twenty-one years old, I am an adult and you are not my father!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "You know as well as I do that's not what I'm asking. Why Monica?"

Rachel's gaze drifted to the doorway where Blaine and Monica were talking, both of them had kind smiles. She let her gaze skim down Monica's frame, really looking at her. Scrutinizing the short golden hair, emerald eyes that sparkled as Blaine made her laugh, graceful yet strong arms, and her long dance-toned legs.

The fight left the singer as Monica's eyes wandered into the room and she caught Rachel staring, she smiled and winked at Rachel, raising a light blush on the brunette's cheeks.

"Rachel, I know that things have been tough lately, especially with the anniversary. But she's not Quinn-"

"No." The brunette quickly cut Kurt off, her face morphing into a mask of anger, "Don't talk about Quinn, not to me, not about this. I know that she's not Quinn, nobody is. You don't understand and I know that you mean well, I know that you only want to help me, but nothing you say can undo what happened."

"Rach-"

"Please." Her voice broke on the single syllable and so did Kurt's heart as he saw tears leak from the corners of Rachel's eyes, "Please I can't deal with that ghost today."

He nodded and pulled Rachel into himself, allowing her tears to soak his shirt. They were joined shortly by Monica and Blaine, the singer peeled herself off of Kurt and stepped into Monica's arms. They were strong when they wrapped around Rachel with no hesitation, and Kurt could see the diva visibly relax in the comforting hold.

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:42 AM)<strong>

The hallways were eerily empty as Rachel and Kurt sprinted from the west wing of the building. Most students had made it out to the parking lot or were safely locked in classrooms by now.

The crack of gunfire stopped briefly and Kurt stopped as the shooting did. Rachel watched him quizzically.

"Kurt, we need to go. We need to get out of here." She whispered urgently.

"Where's Blaine?"

Rachel grabbed his wrist and began tugging, "He has math first doesn't he? It's close to the front parking lot, he's probably safely outside already. We need to go Kurt."

Kurt's lips trembled, "This is so fucking stupid!" He cried out. It was one of the few times Kurt had cursed and Rachel was too shocked to even admonish him for speaking so loudly when there was an armed shooter in the school, "Why the hell did we leave the classroom?" He walked over to one of the locked doors in the hall and tugged on the handle, of course it didn't budge but the students inside yelped in fear. In frustration, he lashed out and kicked the door with all his might.

"Kurt!" Rachel whispered loudly, "Yes it was stupid, but we can't go back! We need to start moving, thanks to your little outburst the shooter may very well know where we are. Now will you please come on so we have some chance of making it out of her alive?"

He nodded and allowed Rachel to pull him to the stairs. Even in a tragedy like this, Rachel was the voice of reason. There were bags lying abandoned in the hallway and papers strewn about everywhere. Rachel tried to ignore all of it.

"We just need to make it down the stairs then we can go out the front door to the right, it's not too far down the main hall."

Kurt nodded, they both knew that the shots had been coming from the main hall, but there were no other options at this point.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rachel paused and peeked her head out. Seeing no movement, she nodded to Kurt and took off sprinting towards the door. They made it halfway before a bullet tore past them and impacted the lockers directly ahead of Rachel. She screamed but kept running.

The next shot hit her left arm. It tore through the bicep, but she didn't stop running. Rachel broke off to the right towards the gyms, and Kurt went left toward the theatre.

Neither of them made it straight out to the front door.

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><p><strong>AN- Hey, hope you are still interested in the story, drop a review and tell me what you think so far. Also sidebar- I've recently gotten into the Swan Queen pairing from OUAT and want to write a story for that, any ideas? Thanks in advance!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- Have a good holiday! I figured out a better way to do the timeline so it is the chapter after this one (and I deleted the previous chapter 6 which used to be the timeline so comments may be left on this chapter.) But I will be deleting the timeline chapter each time I update and reposting it as a new chapter. **

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><p><em>"You might have to lose control before you could find out what you'd been missing." <em>  
>― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes<p>

* * *

><p><strong>(October 20, 2014)<strong>

Kurt sat in the reception area of Cleveland General Hospital. Today Rachel was being released. He himself had just been cleared to go home two days ago, his injuries had been minimal. Well minimal compared to what could have happened.

Mainly just cuts and bruises along with a sprained ankle from when he'd slipped trying to flee the school. He was lucky.

In the lobby the news was playing, it was still on 24 hour coverage of the shooting. Kurt knew for a fact that the nurses weren't allowing the patients connected to the shooting watch the news at the advisement of the psychologists and grief counselors that had met with all of the students. The first time he realized how much of a national tragedy the shooting had been was the day he was released. He didn't register the three televisions as he passed the waiting room each one with a different news station and all speaking about William McKinley, he did register the local news crew waiting outside the exit of the hospital. The anchor was familiar to Kurt and she was respectful enough when she asked for a statement which he declined.

Since his discharge, Kurt went home to get a change of clothes and shower before returning to the hospital.

He spent his time oscillating between the rooms of his friends who were still under observation like many others with minor injuries who didn't want to leave classmates alone in the hospital. Kurt spent the most time with Rachel who had sustained one of the worse injuries.

Now that she was being released he would return home, Rachel was the last one he had been waiting for.

As he sat in the waiting area, he watched the news, it was a nationwide station based out of somewhere important like New York or Boston. The anchor was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair. His jaw was serious as he read from the TelePrompTer.

"We now have an official confirmation from the Ohio State Police Commissioner that there were 12 fatalities that occurred in the school itself, making the McKinley Massacre one of the most fatal school shootings by a single gunman in American history. Olivia Jackson is on scene at the school with the latest, Olivia?"

Kurt cringed internally at the name that had been given to the shooting, 'The McKinley Massacre' it would be forever remembered as that and it would color the rest of his life.

The camera swapped images to a Latina newscaster standing on the front lawn of the high school. The entrances of the school were barred with police tape and there were detectives everywhere.

"Thank you John, here in Lima things are still quite somber as the town is trying to pick itself up from the tragedy. Police have yet to release a name of the suspected shooter though it is clear that the gunman is in custody."

A ticker tape was running across the bottom of the screen with the names of the known victims along with their age, Kurt knew most of them.

* * *

><p><strong>(Six years later, October 20, 2020)<strong>

"Six years ago, the unthinkable happened. We suffered a tragedy like nothing we've ever experienced." The speaker paused, she looked around at the audience assembled in front of her. It was a mix of former classmates, parents, teachers, current students, and members of the community. Clearing her throat, she tried to figure out how to proceed.

It had been a surprise when Figgins had called her to ask her to speak. Granted she was one of the most established survivors, but now the normally eloquent orator was struggling to form even the most basic sentences.

"It was- um well it was a time that unified the community."

There was a section in the audience for the parents of the victims, they were who she looked at now. She couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes while she tried to read her speech. So, flipping her paper over, she tried again.

"Quite honestly, when I was first asked to speak at this anniversary, I tried to decline. I had no idea what to say, I had planned on not even coming to be honest. But my amazing fiancee somehow managed to talk me into it and convince me to talk." She smiled remembering the heated conversation, "And you see, that's really what I wanted to talk about. We all suffered so much loss on that day in that school, and nothing that we do will ever change that. We can't regain what we lost, or rewind the clock to make things happen differently. The only thing we can do id continue moving forward and living each day with an appreciation of what we have.

The events of October 17 will always be all of us, and hopefully they will allow us all to remember how fragile life is so we can fully enjoy it."

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:43 AM)<strong>

Rachel clasped her right hand to her injured bicep and continued sprinting, not even pausing when she reached the stairs leading her down to the locker rooms in the basement. She slipped going down the stairs and nearly twisted an ankle, but threw her arm out in time to catch her fall. A shooting pain went up through her right wrist as it absorbed the brunt of the fall, and she knew it was at least sprained. She pushed up, and continued on to the doors of the locker rooms, praying that they would be unlocked. Thankfully, they were and she slipped into the girls locked room, wincing when the door slammed behind her. The first thing she needed to do was find a place to hide, the brunette tried the door to the gym teachers office but it didn't budge.

She settled for a corner of the far bank of lockers, from the vantage point she would be able to see anyone coming before they got to her. Once seated, Rachel examined her wound. The bullet had torn straight through her arm, and she realized with a lurch the she could see through the hole. Blood was steadily seeping from the wound and Rachel firmly clasped her hand over it to try to prevent further blood loss. Her wrist hurt when she pressed the hand to her arm, but she ignored it knowing that the alternative would be far worse.

She didn't know how long she spent sitting on the floor of the locker room, listening to the sporadic gunfire in the school above her, but at some point she blissful blacked out.

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><p><strong>AN- Thank you for the reading and reviews. WriterLiz88 you're my favorite ever haha ;).I also love everyone else who reviewed :) **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N- Thanks for the continued support. WARNING- this chapter is dark and twisty. Leave a review, I really appreciate all of those of you who take the time to read this and leave a little note :).**

_"Lie to yourself until it's true."  
>― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes<em>

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:48 AM)<strong>

Santana thrashed wildly, kicking out behind her, trying to bite the strong hand clamped over her mouth. It was her fight for survival and she would not lose. Her legs hit the wall, the door, an empty bucket, and finally-

"Ouch!" A familiar voice groaned when Santana finally felt her foot connect with something solid, "San, you need to calm the fuck down!" The voice hissed.

Instantly, her arms fell to her sides and she was released, whipping around to glare at the owner of the voice in the darkness, "Puck?"

"The one and only." He replied with a slight chuckle. He was just a dark figure in the black of the closet, but his presence made Santana feel better instantly.

It didn't stop her from reaching out and landing a solid smack to where his chest ought to be, "What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were the shooter! Don't you know better than to sneak up on people in a time like this?"

"Shh!" He interrupted, gently pushing Santana aside to lay his head against the door and listen for any sound from the hallway, "Do you want him to know where we are?"

"Not really, I want to get back out there and find Quinn!" Santana pushed against his shoulder, and tried to shove her way out the door. She was stopped easily by Puck, "Get out of the way Puckerman."

A staccato of gunfire came before Puck's reply, "No way. You go out there and you're never coming back. Just wait, I promise we'll be out there and gangbusting in no time. We just need a plan first."

"This is ridiculous! Why were you even hiding in this closet to begin with?" The Latina huffed, overturning the bucket she had kicked in her haste to escape Puck's grasp, and dropping to sit on the hard plastic.

"When all this shit started going down, I was in the hallway," He began, sliding down the door until he was sitting on the floor.

"Late for class no doubt." Santana filled in.

"Do you want to hear my story or not?"

The brunette groaned, "What I want is to get the hell out of this closet and find Quinn."

Puck finally registered what Santana was saying, and he blanched- grateful Santana couldn't see it in the dark, "Weren't all the cheerleaders in the gym together rehearsing?"

"How would you know that?"

"I saw you all in there."

"Perv. But Britt and I left before this all started, Quinn was still in there."

Puck took a steadying breath, things could be worse, "Q will be alright, she's the strongest girl I know. We don't even know if the shooter went in the gym."

"He did." Santana whispered, "When I was coming in the school, again this girl- she said that the Cheerios were dead. All of them."

The boy silently digested the information, resting his elbows on his knees, and dropping his head into his hands, "We need to go, we need to find Quinn."

"Finally, we're on the same page."

* * *

><p><strong>(August 2028)<strong>

"Do we really have to send her to school this year?" Rachel asked for the dozenth time. It was Sunday evening, 10:30 on Sunday evening actually, and Rachel had been asking the same question for the past two months ever since they had registered their daughter for her first year of real school in Kindergarten. Rachel was so preoccupied with and afraid of this event that she had been absolutely horrible at rehearsal for the last week.

Her wife rolled over from where she had been trying to sleep.

"We can't exactly keep her out of school forever, Rach."

"But why not?" The brunette sat up suddenly, struck by a brilliant idea, "We can homeschool! With my hours at the theatre I can be home during the day sometimes, and you're actually a teacher! This could totally work."

"Honey, no it can't." She sat up and drew Rachel's hands between her own, "What happened to us, you know that it doesn't always happen. We survived something horrible, and we came out stronger the other side." She ran a hand through the brunette's hair and continued in her softest tone, "We did everything we could for Spencer. We live in the best school district in the state, you've already met with the principal. Tomorrow everything is going to be fine."

Rachel huffed a sigh and flopped back down, "Fine. But I refuse to be happy about this."

Her wife smiled and cuddled behind the diva, "You and I both know that once you get Spencer in her first day of school dress you'll be more excited than she will be."

* * *

><p><strong>(15 years after, December 2029)<strong>

An excerpt from 'An Hour in Hell: the survivors' story'

_Hurricanes, train wrecks, natural disasters, and unnatural disasters you can't go through one of these events without becoming closer with the people you went through it with. _

_School shootings fall into that category. _

_The students of William McKinley high school have never been closer than were November third when we finally went back to school. The hallways had been thoroughly photographed, catalogued, and cleaned since the tragedy and Monday was the first day we were allowed back in the building. It was this huge controversy, sending us back to the school where it all happened was simply nowhere else large enough to house us all. _

_Students flowed through the doors like injured soldiers returning from battle. Some were on crutches, many had bandages, bruises, scars. But our injuries were not all so superficial. _

_Shortly after the first bell rang and everyone was sitting in the same classes we had been on the day it happened, (many of those classes had empty seats), the intercom crackled. The tension was palpable as many students feared the worst, flashing back to two and a half weeks ago. _

_This time though Principal Figgin's voice was calm as he welcomed the students back and reiterated all the procedures in place to make the school safer than ever. _

_No matter how much bleach those crime scene techs used after they were done collecting evidence, those of us who had been in the school after the initial shots could always see where the pools of blood had congealed under our dead classmates._

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:50)<strong>

Slowly, Quinn opened one eye, then the other. Blinking away the black at the edges of her vision, Quinn sat up carefully. She was very aware of the pounding in her head and suspected that she had a concussion, reaching up to soothe her temple, Quinn jolted as her hand came away bloody.

It was then that she registered the sticky dampness that ran from her right temple all the way down her cheek. She thought she might throw up.

Looking to her left, Quinn had to cover her mouth to keep from actually throwing up. Lying motionless beside her was Maria, her base since freshman year, in a pool of deep red which stained her uniform. Quinn pushed up onto her knees and looked around her, in the gymnasium was a number of other girls like Maria. All Cheerios in their uniforms, and all motionless in dark red stains.

Quinn jumped to her feet and the world swam around her. She turned and retched, heaving and throwing up everything in her stomach.

She surveyed the girls as what had happened became apparent to her. Quinn carefully walked among her former teammates, looking at the familiar faces and searching for two in particular. But she found neither.

She counted eight girls sprawled on the ground. Some Cheerios had escaped.

As she was trying to formulate a plan, a sound to Quinn's left drew her attention. It was a raspy breath drawn in with great difficulty. Quinn hurried over to the form it had come from.

It was Jennie, a freshman who had just joined the squad. Quinn remembered just last week when Jennie had finally mastered her first backflip. Now she was holding both hands to a dark splotch in her uniform top where her lung would be. Blood was seeping between her slackening fingers.

Quinn took over applying quick pressure, she nearly recoiled her hands when warm blood flowed easily between her hands. Jennie blinked before focusing on the blonde's face, "Quinn." She rasped out.

"Shh, don't try to talk."

A gunshot drew both girl's attention. It sounded as though it were from the other end of the school.

"Am I going to die?" Jennie asked between ragged breaths.

Quinn's eyes grew quickly damp, even as she shook her head she knew judging from the paleness of the girl's face and the copious amounts of blood on Quinn and the floor that her chances weren't good. So she lied, "Of course not. You're going to be fine, Jennie. And I'm going to stay right here with you."

"And we'll make it out of this?"

"Yes, Jennie, we'll make it out." Quinn readjusted her hands so she could apply more pressure, "Does that hurt?"

Jennie blearily furrowed her brow, "No, I haven't been able to feel anything for a while now. That's good right Quinn?"

Tears freely fell down the blonde's face. This girl was fourteen, Quinn remembered from one of the team sleepovers she had two younger brothers, "Yeah, Jennie, it's good."

They both knew Quinn was lying.

Silence drew out between the two of them, it was broken by another burst of gunshots, "You should go Quinn. You can make it out."

The captain shook her head vehemently, "No, I'm not going to leave you here alone." Jennie had brilliant blonde hair and air of confidence that rivaled Quinn's. Some of the seniors had even taken to calling her 'Mini Q' because of the strong resemblance.

"Will you pray with me?"

Quinn nodded, she wrecked her brain for the appropriate words and took a breath to begin, but before she did, she removed her hands from the wound and reached up to remove the golden cross that had hung around her neck since she was eight. She fastened the necklace around Jennie and the freshman grasped the small cross with one hand. Quinn gently drew Jennie's head onto her lap and brushed some hair out of her face as she began praying. Her hands were completely soaked in blood which she tried to wipe on her uniform but couldn't quite get it all off.

She prayed for a few minutes until Jennie's labored breathing drew to a stop and Quinn carefully stood up. She was completely covered in blood at this point and if she hadn't thrown up earlier, she was sure that she would now.

A gunshot from closer than before pulled her to the present and she took off towards the locker rooms behind the gym.

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><p><strong>AN- I'm sorry. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N- Thank you again for all of your great reviews and support, hopefully you enjoy this chapter as much as the last few!**

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><p><strong>(October 20, 2014 three days after)<strong>

"I need to buy a black dress." Santana blurted out. She was staring blankly ahead at a spot on the carpet, Brittany was lying with her head in the brunette's lap, "I mean I have a black dress but it's too short and it's backless."

"What could possibly make you think that at a time like this Santana?" Kurt quirked an eyebrow. It was eleven at night and many of the Glee club members were crammed in Rachel's basement for a sleepover.

In truth, nobody wanted to be alone now that they were all out of the hospital.

Santana didn't raise her eyes when she answered, "Half the Cheerios died."

Kurt still wasn't making the connection, "And you're talking about dresses because?"

"Do you know what we're going to be doing for the next two weeks Kurt?" Santana snapped, her eyes finally locked onto the boy's, "No? Allow me to clue you in. While the police are investigating and scrubbing blood from lockers, we will be bouncing from funeral to funeral. I've already gotten notice of three for members of the Cheerios, not to mention everyone else who died. How oblivious do you have to be-"

"Can we just not?" Rachel interrupted, "Can we please just not fight? Yes we all lost people incredibly close to us, but can we just for one night pretend it never happened? Can we pretend that we won't be marked for the rest of our lives by this and that nothing will ever be the same?"

Silence fell momentarily before Santana replied, "We can pretend whatever you want Berry, that won't change the fact that last time we got together like this there was hardly enough space for everyone to fit, and now there's a whole empty couch."

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:00 AM)<strong>

"Rachel? Rach can you hear me?"

The singer slowly gained awareness of a melodic voice coming from above her, chancing opening one eye, Rachel lay in disbelief, "Are you an angel?" She asked faintly.

The figure above her laughed. Her blonde hair was backlit by a bright white light and Rachel thought if this was the last thing she saw before she died, it wouldn't be a bad sight, "You really must have lost a lot of blood to be that delusional."

Rachel's vision focused and she finally processed the face before her, "Quinn."

"There you go."

The cheerleader was bent over Rachel holding a towel firmly around the singer's upper arm, "What are you still doing here? We need to get out of the school."

Quinn ran a hand gently through Rachel's hair in an attempt to calm her, "I know. It's not safe to leave just yet. I think the shooter is at this end of the school."

The brunette nodded. Her arm was throbbing, and her wrist was turning an unsightly green color. Every breath was a great struggle especially since her mouth seemed to be made of sandpaper. Though she was lying on the floor, everything felt unsteady like she might tip over at any second. She knew she might die so she threw caution to the winds, "Why are you doing this, Quinn? You could have left me here and run to save yourself."

Quinn adjusted her position to sit more comfortably, knowing this conversation was going to be a long one, "No, I couldn't just leave you Rachel."

"Why not?"

The answer was interrupted by a burst of gunfire that reverberated around the cinder block room, the shooter was definitely near the gym. Rachel's vision began to swim.

Quinn capitalized on the distraction, "I wonder who would do something like this. It's probably that Jacob kid."

"No. It's not him." Rachel replied evenly before losing consciousness again.

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><p><strong>(June 2004)<strong>

Quinn is 8 years old and it's the summer before she goes into 3rd grade. Most days she goes to the park with her older sister Frannie.

Frannie is fourteen and getting ready to start high school which means that their parents have deemed her responsible enough to supervise Quinn and Santana when they go to play. In reality, she often met with friends and gossipped while Quinn and Santana occupied themselves at the playground.

Today the girls are playing on the swings when Quinn spies a girl she's never seen before. The girl is petite with curly brown hair and the warmest eyes that Quinn's ever seen. She wants to call them chocolate brown, but amends it to hot chocolate because they're twice as warm and even more comforting.

"Who's that?" She asks Santana, nodding at the new girl.

At first Santana is preoccupied by trying to generate enough power to rocket her swing in a loop over the whole swing set. Until she realizes who Quinn is indicating to, "That's Rachel Berry!" She exclaims, eager to dish the latest gossip, "She's just moved here and I heard my ma talking to someone at the nail salon, apparently she's got two dads instead of a mom."

Quinn didn't find the news all that earth shattering, at eight years old she was much more interested in how pretty of a name Rachel was, and how it fit the brunette perfectly.

Later that day, after they had walked Santana home, and Quinn and Frannie were now headed back to their own house, Frannie tried to break the silence with her sister.

"Did you and Santana have fun at the park today?"

"Yeah!" Quinn's eyes sparkled as she recalled the exciting day, "Santana fell off the swings trying to flip one and I beat Finn and David and Puck in a race!"

"The sounds great." Frannie smiled, she was truly glad that her younger sister had fit in so seamlessly.

"And I made a new friend, her name is Rachel Berry."

The older blonde's jaw clenched in recognition of that name and she slowed to a halt at the end of their driveway, lightly grasping Quinn's wrist to make her stop walking as well. The smaller girl turned to her sister in confusion.

Frannie kneeled down and took both Quinn's hands in her own. They were so small, she hated having to take away any part of her sister's innocence, but she knew it would be better coming from her now than from their father later.

"Quinnie, there's something you need to understand about your friend Rachel. I'm sure that she's very kind and nice, but it's best if you don't tell mom and dad that you're friends with her."

Always bright for her age, Quinn easily connected the dots, "Because she has two dads?"

"Yeah, Quinn." At the time, the younger blonde didn't understand the soft tears that had begun to track down her sister's cheeks. "But that doesn't make her any different really. So Quinn I want you to promise me that you'll still play with her and you'll still be her friend ok?"

Quinn nodded her consent with worry clear on her face.

"You just can't tell mom and dad, especially not dad. There's no reason to add to her struggles, Rachel's future is going to be tough enough."

"Because she has two dads."

"That's right."

Frannie tucked some flyaway blonde strands behind Quinn's ear before she stood again. She dried her eyes and led the way up the driveway and through the front door to the kitchen where their mother was making scones for a church gathering tomorrow.

Frannie gave a weak smile before exiting to her bedroom while Quinn helped their mother roll out the pastry dough.

Not until years later when Frannie came home for Christmas when Quinn was a junior in high school did the older girl's tears make sense. Frannie bought a bottle of wine from the local liquor store and the sisters got drunk while sitting on the roof. Quinn offhandedly mentioned Rachel's latest plan in Glee Club, and her older sister immediately seemed to sober up. She asked how the brunette was doing and nearly slid off the roof when Quinn relayed the reality of Rachel's abuse.

The night was tearful for both sisters.

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><p><strong>AN- That last little scene is probably my favorite in this whole story, tell me what you thought as always reviews are more than welcome.**


	9. Timeline

**WARNING- THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS, IN ORDER TO READ THE NEWEST CHAPTER, PLEASE GO TO THE ONE BEFORE THIS. IT HAS BEEN UPDATED IF THIS ONE HAS.**

**A/N- Hello, so this is a timeline of the whole story so far which means it contains spoilers for all previous chapters. I'll make sure that this is always the last chapter in the story and update it as new chapters are posted so you can keep the timeline straight. Feel free to put any questions or concerns you have on the timeline right here!**

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><p>1. Summer 2004<p>

Quinn meets Rachel on the playground

(Chapter 8)

2. Summer 2007

Santana and Quinn lay in the sun and see Finn and Dave walk down the road.

(Chapter 2)

3. August 2011

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany's first football game

(Chapter 4)

4. December 2012

Practice lockdown drill with Santana and Quinn

(Chapter 3)

5. October 17, 2014 7:35

Kurt and Rachel meet in front of Rachel's locker and walk to class. Shooting begins.

(Chapter 1)

6. October 17, 2014. 7:36 AM

Santana and Brittany in parking lot before shooting.

(Chapter 2)

7. October 17, 2014. 7:39 AM

Quinn was dropped on her head.

(Chapter 3)

8. October 17, 2014. 7:42 AM

Rachel and Kurt Run from the classroom and Rachel is shot.

(Chapter 5)

9. October 17, 2014. 7:43 AM

Rachel runs to the locker room before blacking out.

(Chapter 6)

10. October 17, 2014. 7:45 AM

Santana gets back into the school to look for Quinn

(Chapter 4)

11. October 17, 2014. 7:48 AM

Santana is pulled into a closet by Puck

(Chapter 7)

12. October 17, 2014. 7:50 AM

Quinn wakes from being dropped and finds Jennie

(Chapter 7)

13. October 17, 2014. 8:00 AM

Quinn and Rachel met in the lockerroom

(Chapter 8)

14. October 17, 2014. 8:07 AM

Frannie comes to the school and talks to Mrs. Lopez

(Chapter 5)

15. October 19, 2014- 3:18 AM

Rachel wakes up in the hospital with her fathers

(Chapter 3)

16. October 20, 2014

Rachel wakes up in the hospital

(Chapter 8)

17. October 20, 2014

Kurt waits for Rachel to be discharged from the hospital.

(Chapter 6)

18. November 27, 2017.

Kurt and Blaine meet Rachel and her girlfriend Monica

(Chapter 5)

19. September 13, 2018

Rachel has a nightmare about the shooting

(Chapter 4)

20. October 12, 2020

Rachel is interviewed on a talk show about the shooting and six year reunion.

(Chapter 1)

21. October 20, 2020

Six year reunion, main speaker gives her speech.

(Chapter 6)

22. August 2028

Rachel's daughter begins school

(Chapter 7)

23. December 2029

The book, 'An Hour in Hell- The Survivors' Story' is published.

(Chapter 4, 7)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N- Sorry about the confusion about chapter updates, if you have received emails saying there was a new chapter only to find a new time line hate to break it to you, but you missed a chapter! So I suggest going back and seeing if you missed a new chapter, to that end I will not be doing another timeline until the end, if you're confused leave a review or drop me a PM!**

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><p><strong>(October 27, 2014)<strong>

Santana was right, of course. She always is. For the two weeks that school was suspended, there was at least one funeral a day. On the days where two families had scheduled a service, mourners would flood the small diner across the street between services.

Everyone would sit in the same spot for these funerals, family and close friends in the front two pews, and beyond that there was unspoken silent arrangements. The remaining Cheerios clumped together in the back left, athletes behind them. Glee club was toward the front on the right, and theatre or band behind them.

It was amazing how after everything had been shaken up so badly, there was still some semblance of order.

The hardest funeral came on the second Monday.

Santana donned her black dress and didn't even bother trying to apply eyeliner or mascara. She knew it would be a mess before the service even began. She picked up Brittany on her way to the church.

They arrived on time and made their way to the second pew, this funeral was different. Up on the altar was a picture of the blonde, her smile was so wide, so genuine. It was hard for Santana to wrap her head around the fact she would never see it again.

As predicted, tears were falling hotly down her cheeks before a single word was spoken, Brittany held her hand tightly from one side, and the rest of the Cheerios were silently supporting her from the other. The survivors of the squad all mourned the loss together.

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:14 AM)<strong>

Rachel's cheek was wet. Initially she assumed it was from blood. Which, granted, is an odd thing to assume unless you had the morning that Rachel did. And there was a faint humming in her ears accompanied by something more melodic. It reminded her of a music box she had as a child. When she opened the top, a pretty ballerina wearing a pink tutu and rhinestoned leotard would pop up and spin. For the longest time, that had been her favorite possession, until one day she clumsily dropped it trying to put it back on it's shelf and the ballerina broke.

The music still played, but it no longer sounded right. Just like what Rachel was hearing now, it didn't quite sound right.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Once Rachel understood the sympathetic words, her eyes flew open. Leaning over her was a sight more devastatingly beautiful than her broken music box ballerina. Quinn Fabray was crying, still clutching Rachel's upper arm where she had been shot. Her tears fell hotly onto Rachel, some hitting her cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Rachel gathered all her strength to reply, "For what?"

Quinn's eyes shot open and she let out a strangled humorless laugh, "You're still alive." She whispered as though saying it aloud might break the spell, "I couldn't find a pulse, I thought you were gone too."

The brunette tried to smile though it looked more like a grimace, "Still here." She confirmed.

"You have to stay with me Rachel. I can't lose you again."

Quinn's eyes were red from the crying and they were so vulnerable and scared that it instantly brought Rachel back to alertness.

"Why?" Rachel whispered, "Why were you apologizing?"

Tears began anew as Quinn debated lying again, but decided against it, "Because I love you. I've loved you ever since I met you, I love you with every fiber of my being, I can't imagine a day without you and pray I never have to."

Another gunshot sounded, this one closer than the others, before Rachel could respond, Quinn was moving, "We need to go. You've lost too much blood already." She stood and scooped Rachel's petite frame easily into her arms before beginning to carry her bridal style out of the locker rooms. Quinn knew her ability to do this given her likely concussion was entirely thanks to the pain blocking adrenaline coursing though her blood.

As the crested the top of the stairs and Quinn paused a moment in hiding, Rachel finally had the strength to reply, "Quinn? I love you too."

It was all the motivation Quinn needed to push off the wall and charge around the corner. The doors were less than 40 yards away, but one obstacle stood between the girls and safety.

"Dave?"

* * *

><p><strong>(1996)<strong>

"Ok, honey, just one more big push for me!" The midwife chanted.

Catherine tightened her grip on her husband's hand before gathering the last of her strength and bearing down. Moments later, the youngest person on the planet entered Lima General hospital. The doctor easily caught the child, flipping the umbilical cord out of the way around his neck and clamping it. Soon enough, the baby was lifted into his mother's arms swaddled in a soft blue blanket.

The midwife smiled at the tender interaction; the father was near tears as he held one hand on his wife's shoulder and the other gently stroked his son's head, and Catherine held her baby's innocent stare. The baby wasn't colicky, he just took in the world around him with a bright eyed gaze and the hints of a smile already on his thin pink lips.

"David," his mother whispered. It was a promise and wish in one, "He's perfect."

All anyone ever wants for their children is for them to grow up with the most potential and have every opportunity available to them. The midwife could see that promise brimming in both parent's eyes, and she made her exit so as to not intrude any longer on the delicate scene.

She went down to the nurse's station to prepare the birth certificate, "David Karofsky, welcome to the world." She smiled, shutting the door behind her.

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 7:57 AM)<strong>

"We need to be logical about this," Puck said, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes in the darkness of the closet, "We can't just go running out there."

"Last I know of, Quinn was in the gym."

"It's not just Quinn," the boy released a deep sigh, "I was planning on finding Rachel. Mike has first period with her and when I texted him he said that Rachel left the classroom before the teacher locked the door."

Immediately Santana was on her feet again, "No way in hell Puckerman! I'm not risking my life for manhands Berry, that's so not what I signed up for." She hissed angrily.

"Well I'm not leaving without her."

Though the closet was pitch black, Santana could hear the finality in his voice and she knew that whether or not she wanted to, she would not be exiting the school without Rachel.

"Fine, but if push comes to shove I'm taking Q and running."

"Fine."

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><p><strong>AN- Thank you beautifuls for your amazing reviews, keep them coming. Also JustCharlieAndMe, thanks for your review, it made my day. Rachel isn't abused what was being alluded to previously was just being bullied but yes, I did want it to be confusing if Quinn lives so I'm glad that worked haha. And your review gave me ideas for like three new stories so thank you!**

**Also, I GOT ACCEPTED TO COLLEGE!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N- Sorry this update took so long, its hard to write something so dark with such a great holiday feeling in the air. Hope you enjoy this, and keep in there with me, we are ramping up for the final two-ish chapters. Thank you for your ****continued reading and reviews, they keep me motivated!**

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><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:24 AM)<strong>

"Dave?" Quinn's confused statement was hardly more than a whisper, but the boy's head whipped around. The rest of his body- led by a gun followed shortly after.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, Quinn as in the Quinn Fabray, holding a pale Rachel Berry who had a brilliantly red towel pressed to her bicep, "Quinn?"

The boy's hair was mussed up from where he must have been wearing a ski mask which had become a casualty at some point. That small detail, the ruffled hair seemed to contrast so wildly with the gun, Quinn could hardly believe her eyes.

They stood in silence for what could have been hours or seconds, nobody daring to even breathe too loudly, Rachel was the first to break the quiet when the towel slipped a bit from her grasp and she let out a small strangled gasp of pain. The noise reminded Quinn of the warm weight in her arms, and she held the brunette a fraction tighter as if her arms would protect the girl from Dave

"Listen David, Rachel is hurt pretty badly and she needs help. We need to get her out of the school." That seemed to spur him into understanding as he nodded minutely and dropped his gun slightly, the action put Quinn slightly more at ease- at least he still had some rationality left.

"Ok so I'm going to take Rachel outside now and she can get to a hospital." The blonde was able to take one step towards the door before a different expression crossed Dave's face and suddenly the gun was leveled right back on the girls.

"Wait, why are you helping Berry, Quinn? You've been tormenting her since middle school."

"Dave, I'll explain later. Right now there isn't time, she's losing a lot of blood."

Quinn tried to edge nearer to the door again, but was stopped short, "Don't you dare fucking move." The gun was trained on Quinn's chest and against her will, her body froze, "I'm in charge here. Why are you helping Rachel when you've been making her life hell for the last seven years?"

A range of emotions all competed for dominance on Quinn's face, everything from guilt and apprehension, to hope danced through her features. She couldn't tell which would end worse, the truth or a lie.

Throwing caution to the winds, she decided to put her heart on the line- if it meant saving Rachel she would put anything on the line, "Because I love her."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious David." Her hazel eyes gave away no hesitation as she held his stare, "I love Rachel, now please, I'm begging you, let me take her outside so she can get the medical care she needs."

Something seemed to break inside of Dave and the gun in his extended hand seemed to shake slightly, "Fine, Berry can go. But Quinn, you have to come back in. If you don't, I'll shoot her."

Quinn nodded her agreement to the terms of the deal while Rachel weakly tried to protest in her arms. The arguments fell on deaf ears as the blonde finally made it all the way to the doors with Karofsky trailing her the whole time. Once they made it to the doors, Quinn paused, not wanting to do anything to set the boy off again.

A shove to her shoulder was all she needed before stumbling out the doors, Rachel heavy in her arms. She was amazed at the circus in the parking lot, news vans, police trucks, ambulances, barricades with parents behind. It was all overwhelming and if not for the strangled gasp from the brunette as she was jostled around a bit, Quinn may have been stunned still.

As it were, she could see Dave over her shoulder hiding behind a pillar with his gun trained on Rachel. Gingerly, Quinn kneeled down, ignoring the sting of the concrete biting harshly into her knees, and she laid Rachel gently onto the sidewalk.

At the end of the pavement, across the road was the closest vehicle- a police car- and an officer behind it was motioning for her to run towards the for safety.

Instead, Quinn pushed a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear and leant down to kiss her softly on the forehead, "I love you." She promised.

Rachel's hand trying to grasp her wrist was weak, "Stay." She begged.

"I can't, but always remember what I told you: I've loved you ever since I met you, I love you with every fiber of my being, I can't imagine a day without you and pray I never have to." She recited, "I mean every word of that."

With a final lingering kiss to the brunette's forehead, Quinn reluctantly stood up and returned to the school, turning back just in time to see paramedics rush forward to stabilize Rachel. The door slammed shut with a deathly finality.

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:03 AM)<strong>

"Alright Puckerman, where do you think Rachel went?" Santana sighed in exasperation, the sooner they got moving and found the munchkin, the sooner she could get to Quinn.

"It's Rachel, if she's still in the school she's probably in the auditorium."

Santana ran through the layout of the school in her mind, the theatre was right down the hall from the gym so it wouldn't be too hard to go from searching for Berry to searching for Quinn, "Ok, let's go." She stood and pressed one ear flat against the door listening for any indication of movement. Hearing none, she felt Puck sidle up behind her, ready to explode forth and make the run to the theatre.

"On three?" Santana asked.

"One, two, three." Puck whispered, on the last syllable, Santana threw open the door and took off at a sprint for the correct end of the building, Puck was hot on her heels with a glance thrown over his shoulder to confirm that the hall behind them was deserted.

The run to the theatre was short and blissfully uneventful. The pair found themselves panting inside of the first set of doors in no time. Just one more double door stood between them and whatever was waiting for them inside the auditorium. Puck took the lead this time, nudging the door open and slipping into the darkness quietly. The emergency floor lights were on and he began following them down to the stage when a sound to his right drew his attention, his body instinctively moved to shield Santana.

"Who's there? Show yourself you damn coward!" Puck yelled, fully expecting the gunman to emerge from the shadows.

Instead a quick movement just behind him made Santana shriek, "Puck look out!" Before a heavy weight impacted him in the ribs and he crumpled to the floor.

Puck heard another body hit the ground beside him, and a pained whimpering before Santana was whispering, deadly and low, "Who the hell are you?"

"Let me go!" Was muffled as Santana must be pressing this person's face into the carpet, "Santana, get off."

The mention of her name made the Latina falter as she released her grip and allowed the thin body to roll over between her legs where she had been sitting on his back to keep him secured, "It's me you crazy."

Puck lifted his head enough to see the annoyed person still trapped between Santana's legs fixing his hair, "Why did you attack, Puck?" Santana demanded.

"Same reason you tackled me, I thought he was the shooter." Kurt explained easily.

"Well now that we've established that none of us is the gunman, we need to get moving." Puck said standing and rubbing his shoulder, "What did you hit me with?"

"Fire extinguisher."

The mohawked boy nodded in approval after making sure the joint wasn't dislocated, "Do you know where Rachel is?"

"No. We were separated."

* * *

><p><strong>(August 2015)<strong>

Kurt strolled down the sidewalk with the biggest smile on his face, the sun was shining, there was a light breeze in the air, and Central Park had never looked greener. Rachel beside him was muted. She had been for months now, there had been a period when she began looking up, her smile had returned, and she seemed just brighter.

But it was hard now, they were in New York going to NYADA.

Kurt was hopeful that getting off campus and exploring the city a bit would be good for Rachel, and she did seem to be enjoying herself. She was smiling, even if it wasn't quite as radiant as it used to be.

"I'm excited for that first showcase coming up, what do you think everyone will perform?" Kurt prompted. NYADA talk was always a safe option to engage Rachel with.

"I'm not sure, I'd be willing to bet there will be plenty of classics." The brunette volunteered as they headed closer to the park.

Kurt hummed in agreement, "I swear if someone does something from Evita, I'm going to leave." He could practically feel Rachel roll her eyes beside him, "It's been done to death!"

A motorcycle at a stoplight beside them backfired as it revved up to fight through the traffic, making loud echoing cracks. Kurt rolled his eyes as the cyclists need to display his bike.

"What, no defense for Evita?" Kurt joked, looking to his left where Rachel had stood mere moments ago. She was gone.

Shooting his glance around, Kurt saw the brunette crouched behind a nearby bench. Her hands were firmly pressed over her ears, and her eyes were clenched shut tightly, Kurt could feel the terror radiating from her trembling shoulders.

City dwellers shot her curious looks as they passed by and Kurt wasted no time in leaping over the back of the bench and kneeling next to the girl.

"Rachel!" He put his hands over hers on her ears to pry them off gently, "Rach honey, it was just a motorcycle. You're totally safe."

A few of the survivors had been getting panic attacks since the shooting, but Kurt had never witnessed one. He had no idea Rachel suffered from them this severely.

"Rachel, it's Kurt. You have to open your eyes and look at me. We are totally safe, nobody is going to hurt you."

Slowly, Rachel cracked one eye open, then the other. The tension gradually drained off her shoulders and Kurt watched his best friend melt before him, he wrapped her up in his arms and sat there on the ground behind a bench just outside of Central Park, holding Rachel and promising that they were safe until he was beginning to believe it himself.

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><p><strong>AN- And thank you to Kelly for giving me a kick to get this chapter done ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N- Thanks for the continued support, sorry this update took a bit longer but finals at school does demand attention! Lots of love :).**

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><p><strong>(Five years later)<strong>

Tom Hughton hated coffee when he first began to work for the Ohio police. The entire office reeked of it, and he couldn't imagine being addicted to the substance as some of his coworkers were. Besides, police station coffee was horrible.

Now, he's been a police officer for fifteen years, and he drinks at least four cups of coffee a day. It's disgusting and burnt from the crappy police station machine, but it's enough to keep him rooted. That's what he needed right now, roots, he needed to stay grounded in the present. He knew the importance of this class, but even still his mind wandered as he stared blankly at the slideshow before him.

Occasionally he would guest lecture at the nearby police academy, and that's what he was doing now, his partner was going over the first half of the presentation while Hughton sat with the cup of coffee he had snagged at the station that morning and tried to prep himself.

Far too soon for his liking, he was up. He took the podium with experienced confidence and shot a stern look around the auditorium. The faint whisper that had broken out at his introduction faded to silence, they all knew who he was.

"Today I'm going to be talking to you about hostage crisis as it applies to school shootings." He began, watching the pens fly across the pages to catch his every word, "As many of you know, I have first hand experience in this field." The silence was never more pronounced than it was when he flashed back to the fateful day five years ago. He was an old pro, having been on the force for ten years already, but he had never actually been in charge of a hostage negotiation on his own. The closest he had been before that was a bank robbery from the next town over when he was still new.

Now, everything was different.

_"This is October 17, 2014. This is Tom Hughton, opening negotiations for the first time with the shooter. We have confirmed identification that the shooter is David Karofsky, a senior at William McKinley High School." Tom said into the recording device, covering all of the required reporting information before the moment of truth. His palms were sweating as he dialed the number he had been given for David's cell phone, praying it was turned on and that he would answer._

_It rang once… It was his first time actually conducting hostage negotiations in ten years on the force._

_It rang twice… He doubted his abilities to do this on his own._

_It rang three times… He prayed that the shooter wouldn't answer so he wouldn't have to talk to the kid._

_It rang four times… He realized that's who he was dealing with- a kid._

_It rang five times… He hoped that David would pick up._

_On the sixth ring the phone was answered._

_"Hello?" The voice was shaky and uncertain, not to mention distinctly female._

_"Hello, this is the police. My name is Tom Hughton, what's yours?" Step one- get identification of who you are talking to._

_"My name is Quinn, Quinn Fabray."_

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:30 AM)<strong>

"Aye dios mio." The words fell softly and swiftly from Maria Lopez's lips. They had been corralled by the police earlier to stand behind a makeshift barrier. There was police tape strung between trees and lamp posts in an attempt to maintain some semblance of order. Frannie and Mrs. Lopez had easily pushed themselves to the front.

The blonde turned to see what had prompted such a response from the older woman, and she froze.

Frannie watched in abject horror as her baby sister emerged from the building carrying a small brunette, "Quinn!" She yelled out.

But the younger blonde didn't hear, she watched as Quinn laid the girl down on the sidewalk and kissed her forehead. Frannie waited with bated breath for her sister to keep walking to the police barrier and into her arms. Instead, she turned back and re-entered the school.

"What is Quinn doing?" The blonde cried.

"Was she covered in blood?" Maria asked faintly.

The two of them fell silent as the reality of the situation fell over them. It was a matter of moments until the pair of men who had remained on the edge of Quinn's vision pushed up close to the edge of the tape.

"Is that-" The short one began.

"It can't be-" The taller one with glasses tried to reassure.

There was a brief pause while the paramedics rushed forth and lifted the petite body up onto a stretcher, "That's her bracelet." The shorter one stated simply as the thin gold chain caught the sunlight.

"Oh my god." Finally, the taller one conceded and his hand lifted to be pressed tightly against his lips. They followed the stretcher with hawk eyes as it was carried promptly back down the sidewalk to the awaiting ambulance, it didn't leave however, until both men had asserted themselves into it.

The following half hour was the longest of Frannie's life, she could faintly hear the crackle of the police radios, and every once in a while she would catch odd words like 'hostage' and 'extreme force'.

* * *

><p><strong>(October 30, 2014. 11:57 PM)<strong>

She parked her car three blocks down the road. Granted it was the middle of the night and nobody should be out to see her, but Lima, Ohio was a small town, and she couldn't risk being identified. The walk from her car was short and brisk, she clutched the wooden decoration tightly in her left hand. It was drawn protectively to her chest, mostly hidden inside of her dark peacoat as she came upon the memorial site.

It was out in the lot behind the football field, normally the empty lot was only marred by weeds and scruffy grass. Now, rising from the middle of the field was a dozen wooden crosses pounded into the soft dirt. There were photos, stuffed animals, flowers both in and out of vases, candles burned down and dripped wax onto the dirt surrounding the wooden totems.

Each cross was painted white and adorned with a name of a victim, and a headshot selected by their family which was firmly affixed to the center.

The girl took one last look around to make sure she was alone before drawing out the cross from her coat, and the sledgehammer she had taken to keeping in her car the past few days. She walked the line of crosses, silently throwing up a prayer for each victim as she passed, before she drew to a stop at the end of the row. There was a hole in the ground from where the cross she had set up the night before had stood.

This was the ninth day she had come out to the memorial in the dead of night. The ninth cross she had brought to the field. The ninth time she pounded the wooden totem into the soft dirt. All the same, she knew it wouldn't last long before it was removed just like all the others.

The photo she had stapled to the wood was of a young man, he was wearing his letterman jacket with all the pins fixed into the wool perfectly. He was smiling, but not quite widely enough to reach his eyes, it looked like he knew something entertaining the person behind the camera had yet to comprehend.

The girl didn't stay for long, knowing the danger of being caught in this situation. So instead she just pressed a kiss to her fingertips, and her fingers to the cross, before muttering a quiet, "Sorry" to the dark night, and retreating to the safety of her car.

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><p><strong>AN- I foresee a solid one or two more chapters left so don't worry, you'll be put out of your misery soon enough !**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N- Ok, little baby chapter to hold you over until the next one. I was prompted to post this one because of all y'all complaining about how I left you with more questions than answers. Hope you lovelies enjoy, and as always, thanks so much for the reviews, they are really encouraging!**

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><p><strong>(October 19, 2014. 3:20 AM)<strong>

The heart monitor whirred in the background of the hospital room as panic began to take grip on the brunette.

"Daddy, please tell me what happened with Quinn." Tears were rising at the edges of Rachel's eyes as she gripped her father's hand with her left uninjured one.

Her father could hear the impending panic that was sure to break loose if he continued to skirt around the question, "How much do you remember?"

"Everything up until I went into the ambulance. But Quinn didn't come out of the school when I did. She made sure that I got out, but she didn't come with me."

Her father nodded, every detail she remembered was one less burden he had to bestow upon her.

"Quinn was- Well she was the last one they found." Hiram said gently.

The breath rushed from Rachel's lungs as she processed the words he had just said, "Daddy, is Quinn still alive?"

* * *

><p><strong>(Five years later)<strong>

Tom Hughton surveyed the class, there was a surprising amount of female students. In his day, a woman police officer was an anomaly, and he was glad to see that times were changing, "Often times the most difficult part of hostage negotiations with school shootings is that the shooter doesn't know what they want."

'Or they don't want anything you can give to them.' Tom thought to himself, his mind flashing back to the most memorable call of his life.

_"Quinn, can you tell me what is going on in there?"_

_There was a brief pause during which the other end of the line was completely silent, "Nothing is going on. David is here with me and we are in a closet." A terse moment when Tom heard something grumbled in the background and then what sounded like a muffled thump, "He's put his gun down and promised not to hurt anyone else if you just give him some time."_

_"Where in the school are you?" He was incredibly glad that Quinn hadn't hung up on him, and now he was just trying to gather as much information as he could._

_"I can't tell you that officer. David and I just need some time to talk. Nobody is going to get hurt." She repeated as though she were trying to reassure herself more than she was trying to reassure Hughton._

_Tom wondered how long it took for Stockholm Syndrome to take effect- the two had just disappeared back into the school mere minutes ago, "Quinn I need you to tell me something, and remember that I'll do anything I can to protect you. Is David forcing you to say any of this? Are you in any danger?"_

_A sharp laugh on the other end of the phone made Tom jump, "I'm sitting in a closet with the person who killed half of my cheerleading squad, how much danger could I possibly be in?"_

_Before Tom could even reply to the oddly out of place sarcasm, there was a click and the line went dead._

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:43 AM)<strong>

Quinn tried her best to control her breathing, it was the only thing she had control over right now as Dave pressed his gun between her shoulder blades and guided her back through the maze of hallways.

"Where are we-"

"Shut up." He growled out, cutting her off.

He drew to a stop outside a janitors closet, keeping the gun pressed to Quinn's back, he reached around and opened the door.

"Get in."

There was no hesitation from the blonde as she crossed the threshold and was plunged into darkness when Dave closed the door behind. At first she was sure she was alone, until suddenly the lights came on and she had to blink at the sudden intrusion.

The closet was small, she could cover its depth in four paces, and its width in three, there were various supplies stacked haphazardly on the shelves lining one wall, and a mop bucket shoved in a corner. Quinn kept her eyes moving, bouncing from the supplies, to the bare bulb swinging from the ceiling, the worn linolium floor, anywhere but the boy she had grown up with who was holding a gun.

She hardly managed to avoid eye contact, until Dave broke the silence, "What the hell are you doing Quinn?"

It took all her self control to not scoff at the question, instead she raised her brow at him in question, "I'm not the one with the gun."

"That's not what I meant Q. What are you doing with Berry?"

Quinn was incredulous, "Really, you're questioning me on my love life right now?"

The boy shook his head, began pacing up and down- which was difficult given the space limitations on the closet, "It's just that you're Quinn Fabray." He said her name as though it was enough of an explanation. At her confused stare, he started again, "If anyone was strong enough to do it, it should have been you," his words were coming slowly and painfully as though each one took great effort to produce.

"Strong enough to do what?"

"To be out."

Realization dawned on the blonde and her eyes softened as she looked on the boy, seeing him for what he was, broken.

* * *

><p><strong>(October 17, 2014. 8:50 AM)<strong>

"Look, Hughton, we have no other options. We have to go in!" The incident commander insisted.

The younger cop tried to stand his ground, "We made contact, and there's a possibility that we could do it again. We even found the sister of the girl who answered the phone, apparently the girl- Quinn- knows the shooter. They've been running with the same group since they were kids."

"You've tried to make contact again, we're running out of time. We need to get in."

Tom knew a lost cause when he saw one, and this adrenaline filled incident commander was clearly telling, not asking.

"Fine."

That word was all it took for the cops to suit up, everyone strapping on bullet proof vests and helmets, preparing to enter the school. The next few minutes passed in a rush for Tom, they took the school as quietly as they could. He was at the front of the first team, breaking down closets doors as they went, it took everything within Tom to not lose control as they passed evidence of destruction in every hallway.

After what felt like hours with no lead, but was more a matter of minutes, a yelling from the other end of the school drew everyone's attention.

"No, Dave don't!"

Before a single loud shot.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- Sorry, I know this creates even more questions, but hang in there, I promise next chapter will clear everything up!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N- One chapter left after this one to wrap everything up nicely. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

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><p><strong>(October 19, 2014. 1:19 PM)<strong>

"We have yellow, green, blue, red, purple, pink, and black. What color do you want?"

Rachel chewed on her bottom lip, this was the day she had been dreading ever since the doctors had told her she had a broken wrist, "Pink." She finally decided. The nurse smiled and began preparing the plaster strips. Dunking them in the large bowl of warm water, while the doctor was assembling the padding and the structural piece. Rachel looked nervously at her fathers who were sitting against the wall, out of the way in her room. They smiled reassuringly at her, this was the last thing that needed to be done before she was released from the hospital.

Rachel readjusted her legs, sitting crisscross on the bed. It was the first time she had worn jeans (or any pants for that matter) since the shooting- her father had brought her clothes for the discharge.

"Are you ready to begin?" The doctor asked kindly, he was older with salt and pepper hair which made Rachel trust him more than the young residents she saw running around outside her door all the time.

"Can we wait just a bit longer? She said she would be here." Rachel was trying- and failing to hid the anxiety that had plagued her whenever she wasn't sure of the whereabouts of someone important.

He smiled knowingly, he had been Rachel's primary doctor since she was admitted and as such was familiar with all of Rachel's numerous visitors, "Of course. The strips could do to soak for a bit longer."

Moments later, a breathless blonde swept into the room, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone inside, "I'm so sorry, that interview took far longer than I anticipated it would!"

She unceremoniously plopped down next to Rachel on the hospital bed and dropped a kiss on the singer's temple, almost making the brunette forget that the 'interview' was yet another one with the police. The fourth one she knew about, and she knew there were countless more everyone tried to keep from her, "Did I miss anything?"

"Just the soaking of the plaster strips, exhilarating stuff." Rachel joked.

"You think your sarcasm is cute," the blonde trailed off, "Oh my goodness you finally have pants!"

Rachel laughed, "Finally, now you can't hold it over me Ms. Discharged after one night- gets to shower at home and wear pants all day." She complained, clearly jealous of the less intensive care the other girl had gotten.

"Don't be mad at me that my shining personality is too much to be contained in a hospital gown!"

Throughout the entire exchange, the doctor had begun casting Rachel's right wrist, glad that the girl had such a good distraction.

"Does that mean that mine isn't?"

"Of course not, Rachel! That's unfair, I have a serious concussion and am unable to reason properly."

The brunette just rolled her eyes, "Serious concussion or not, the great brain of Quinn Fabray wouldn't make such an obvious mistake."

Quinn pouted and resigning herself to defeat, she reached out to hold Rachel's left hand, careful of her healing bicep. The brunette smiled in victory and let her head fall on the taller girl's shoulder.

"What's up with the pink? They didn't have gold cast wrapping?" Quinn asked jokingly, not expecting the lecture she was then given for the next five minutes on the scarce amount of things available in a gold hue.

* * *

><p><strong>(October 22, 2014)<strong>

As carefully as possible, the blonde disentangled herself from Rachel and began wandering throughout the room to find her jacket, shoes, and car keys. The past few nights had all been spent at the Berry household with a litany of Glee club members sleeping over or staying late into the night, and this one was no different. Most of the teenagers had left at some point, and now there was only the two girls, Kurt, and Blaine left. Rachel and Quinn had fallen asleep in the brunette's small bed and the boys were snuggled on the floor a few feet away, Rosemary's Baby continued to play in the background, casting animated shadows over the entire room.

Quinn paused sitting on the edge of the bed to pull her boots back on. She took a quick look at the bedside clock, 11:42 she would have enough time to go and return before anyone realized she was missing.

"Where are you going?" A sleepy voice questioned.

"I promise I'll be back soon."

"That's not an answer." The brunette persisted.

Quinn ran a hand through her hair, she knew that Rachel wouldn't give up asking until she got the response she wanted, "I'm going to the memorial."

The diva's brow furrowed in confusion, "We visited this morning."

"I know. It's just- I've got to go back." Quinn said to her shoes.

"Why?"

Quinn knew how anxious it made Rachel when they were separated, and the therapist said that it would get better with time. For her own sake, Quinn knew she could never lie to the brunette again, "For David."

"It's been you this whole time, hasn't it?"

Elaboration wasn't needed, just a single nod in confirmation, "Please don't be mad at me, Rachel."

"I'm coming with you."

"Rach, you don't hav-"

Before Quinn could protest further, she was cut off by a hand held up to silence her, and Rachel was already sliding from beneath the covers, "I want to." She persisted, expertly stepping over the boys to retrieve a pair of jeans and a sweater from her closet.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I can't believe you thought I would be mad at you."

Quinn just shrugged, checking the laces on her boots before trailing Rachel out of the bedroom. The drive to the memorial was short and blissfully quiet, Rachel capturing Quinn's right hand from the steering wheel and habitually rubbing her thumb over the back of it in a smooth pattern. When Quinn pulled to a stop a couple of blocks away and shut off the lights Rachel shot her a quizzical look, but followed her to the trunk anyway.

It was when Quinn opened the compartment that Rachel's breath caught in her throat. Inside there were five wooden crosses (each one painted white), a rubber mallet, a package of photos, and a plastic bag. As if on autopilot, Quinn systematically grabbed a cross and a black sharpie from the bag writing in her neatest cursive 'Dave'. Then she took up the rubber mallet, lying the cross carefully in her trunk so it was flat, she grabbed one of the photos and a nail, pounding the photo securely into the wood.

Once finished, she tucked the cross into her jacket, shut the trunk, and let the mallet dangle lightly from her fingers. She looked at Rachel once as if asking if the brunette was still up for the task, in response Rachel laced her hand with the fingers of Quinn's free one and gave a gentle tug to urge them on towards the memorial.

The cross felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds and each step Quinn took forward was a battle, but she kept going for Dave.

When they arrived in the middle of the field, Rachel stood back as Quinn went through her ritual of walking down the line of crosses and saying a prayer for the victim represented by each one until she reached the hole where the previous cross had been stolen from.

Without hesitation, she expertly lined the wood up with the indentation, and pounded with the mallet until it was solidly in, as though her exacting hammer could protect the cross from being vandalized later.

Once finished, she didn't hesitate to go back to Rachel, take her hand, and lead her away from the memorial towards the car. It was only a few seconds before Rachel broke the silence, "Why do you come out here every night to put the cross back up if you know someone's just going to take it down again tomorrow?"

Quinn thought silently, turning the question over and over in her head as they reached the car and got in. The brunette assumed she wouldn't be getting an answer when she didn't reply before starting the engine. It wasn't until they slowed to a halt at a red light that Quinn finally found the words she needed, "Because Dave was a victim too."

* * *

><p><strong>(Five Years Later)<strong>

"I'll open the floor for any questions you may still have at this point." Tom said with the practiced indifference that came with leading one too many seminars on such a topic. He knew what to expect at this point as he discovered every lecture he gave ended the same way; there were a few genuine questions, young students asking about the proper protocall, until finally someone's curiosity got the best of them. They would ask about the specifics of the McKinley incident, wanting to know all the details. He would field them the best he could before deciding to end the session.

Nothing he hadn't done before.

Until the first person who asked what was one of the best kept secrets of the case, "When you found the shooter and the hostage, wasn't the hostage the one holding the gun?"

Tom sized the kid up, trying to deduce his angle, when he saw nothing but genuine curiosity in the boy's gaze, he decided to respond simply and honestly, "Yes."

A gentle whisper broke out at the confession and someone in the front row vaguely muttered, "Poor thing must have gone crazy."

The whisper took Tom back to his first impression of the girl

_"No Dave, don't!" Followed by a loud shot._

_The commotion came from clear across the other end of the school, and Tom followed the incident commander in the charge after the noise. When they reached the hallway they suspected the shot had come from, they immediately began breaking down closet doors systematically. It took five minutes from the time of the scream to bust in every door._

_Still they had not found the shooter or hostage._

_Finally they transitioned to the floor directly beneath them and began the process over again. It only took three doors until they found one with blood on the door frame. The commander gave everyone a pointed look before breaking the door down. What they found inside made all of the officers pause._

_On the ground was a large boy, solidly built with unruly brown hair, his face looked peaceful save for a small entry hole from a bullet in the middle of his forehead. He was unmoving and the dark puddle forming under his head indicated he wouldn't be anytime soon._

_Standing over him was the wildest creature Tom had ever seen. A girl with blonde hair matted with blood and grey matter, her cheerleading uniform was torn and stained with similar substances as her hair, if not for the slight shake in her hand which gripped a gun, Tom would have thought the girl some macabre statue._

_As it was, the shake was what grounded Tom and made him truly take in the vacant expression in the girl's eyes, the only blood which seemed to belong to her trickling down the side of her face, the glistening tracks on her cheeks from where her tears had washed away the horrors she had faced._


End file.
